


Friendship Not Required

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5359676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pamela is coming off a heartbreak. She's done with women. Bela is done with relationships in general. </p><p>They're both done with the traffic on their commute. Carpooling and alternating the driving will give them each more time. Just so long as everyone is clear: This is a no friendship arrangement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Commute

Pamela wasn't sure when she had turned into a bitch. But she suspected it probably coincided with her taking the job with Binary. Not that she didn't like the job. She loved the job. It was a brilliant organization created to connect LGBTQ persons in the tech industry for professional networking and support, and for creative activism projects. It was important work, and it utilized her talents and challenged her skills in a way that inspired her.

The problem was the commute.

She had been over the numbers a thousand times, on paper, and in her head while staring at red taillights. There was no way she could afford to move closer. Moving would hardly solve much anyway. But it didn't stop her from dreaming about not being on the highway three to four hours a day. The traffic was the most demoralizing thing they were up against, though conservative lobbying groups and uneducated legislators were a close second.

What she hated most was the lost time. While she spent an hour and a half driving to work in the morning, she could have been sleeping. While she was driving up to two hours home every evening, she could have been working. Or reading. Or catching up on the news. Or drinking. Definitely drinking.

So when she found herself contemplating sleeping in her office for the third night in a row, she threw open her laptop and began to write in a fury.

"Wanted: Carpool from Blackburn to center of this god forsaken city, through traffic from hell. Shared alternating driving so one of us can get some fucking work done. No talking, no road trip bonding, just one of us catching a damn nap while the other drives every other day. Seriously. No friendship required. No friendship preferred." She added the times she needed the carpool, and sent the message off into the closed network before she could stop herself.

Pamela sat back and sighed. She probably shouldn't have cursed. But at least that would make her point about how antisocial she was.

She didn't need new friends. She had friends. She didn't want some bubbly, chirpy freaking redheaded nerd sitting there chatting her up on her commute. She just wanted to get there and back and not have a chunk of her day stolen from her.

She glared darkly at the screen. She definitely didn't need a chirpy redheaded nerd. Especially not a gorgeous redheaded nerd techie whose smile made the whole world blur. She was done with those.

***

A pair of sharp green eyes turned to glance at her laptop. She tried not to. But the thing had made a noise, and that meant she had a message, and it was possible-not probable, perhaps, but possible-that message was from Jo.

It wasn't from Jo.

Bela lifted an eyebrow. "Well. Good thing for her. I wouldn't answer anyway."

Then she frowned at the screen. This was odd.

Her cat watched her as she continued talking in the otherwise empty room. "Who puts out a wanted ad on an LGBTQ networking site titled No Friendship Required? That's...that's unprofessional. This isn't a dating site! Who is this?"

The cat didn't know nor care.

Bela clicked to open the message, and found herself giggling in spite of her bad mood. "Impressive, Empress. Listen, and tell me I didn't write this myself." She read it aloud to the uninterested cat. "Well, I wouldn't have included the profanity, but it sounds like me, doesn't it? I'm glad it's not about a hookup. I can't stand people who think they can use this organization as a hookup. If they want to get together at functions and conferences, fine. But there's no excuse for-She lives in Blackburn."

Empress yawned to get her point across.

"She isn't just a member of Binary. She works with us. She's..." Bela pulled up the profile on the screen name Ramonesbian. "Huh. Pamela Barnes. She's in finances." She smiled at the cat wryly. "She's one of those horrible people who figure out how to invest that money I work so hard to find."

Bela tapped her manicured nail on the desk briefly, then shrugged. "It isn't as though I'm committed to liking her. She says she'd rather I didn't. She seems to hate the commute as much as I do, and she dislikes other humans just as much too. At least as much of a workaholic, since she's talking about working on the way home." She laughed. "She even sounds like she might be as big a bitch as I am."

The cat scoffed at this, and jumped down to move on, since it was clear Bela was not going to let her sleep in peace.

The woman sent out a quick message in response, and sat back with a smirk.

***

A fundraiser. "Ugh," Pamela sighed aloud.

Dean Smith looked up from his salad. "What?"

She pointed at her phone. "Told you about the carpool ad I put out?"

"The one that you'll regret for the rest of your time at Binary because it got replies from every cheery sweetheart out there, who thinks you badly need a friend? The cry for help from a lonely soul? That one?"

She rolled her eyes. "Now there's a fundraiser who's interested."

Dean chewed thoughtfully. His expensive tie was thrown over his shoulder to keep it clear of splatter, which was silly, since he never used enough dressing for that to be a problem. "What's the name?"

Pamela checked the profile of the screen name SilkThief. Which was stupid. She was a fundraiser, for god's sake. Calling herself a thief was a little too on the nose for Pamela. "Bela Talbot."

Green eyes brightened with amusement. "Bela Talbot! Haven't heard that name in years! She's with Binary now? How long?"

"Not even two months yet. Been a member three years, but only just joined the staff. You wouldn't have seen, too busy at your annual meet and beat when she was hired."

Dean smirked at her. "Greet, Pam. Meet and greet."

"Not what it feels like on my end."

"We are all on the same side, Barnes," he reminded her patiently. "I come in and review best practices and audit your department because I care."

"And because you're a douche."

"I'm a marketing and finance director, Pam. I provide the investment donors the fundraisers find with reassurance that their money is being used by your department in the most efficient way possible. If I can be a douche while I'm doing that, it's just a bonus."

She snorted.

"Besides, since you became a leader in the department, everything's been meticulous. I used to spend half my time auditing and following up on mistakes and waste. Now I can do what I was hired to do, and what I want to be doing, which is reaching out to new people who need what we do. Because of you, I get to spend eleven months a year doing that and only one month being a pain in your ass."

She bit into her turkey wrap. "So why do you know Bela? She-it's a she, right?"

"Yeah. I know. She spells it with one L, so it's weird." He pushed his plate aside and spared a moment to gaze at her fries with longing, then cleared his throat. "I went to grad school with her. She's a shark, Pam. Never thought I'd see her working for a non-profit. Figured she would be out rolling in cash at a cushy sales and marketing job."

"Like you?"

"My salary is well within the industry standard."

Pamela laughed at him. "Yeah? Our fundraising team isn't under the poverty line either."

"We expect a great deal from our staff. The staff expects to be taken care of. We are actually far below what many other non-profits would consider acceptable salary ceilings."

"So? Is she a sweet, perky, dance-in-the-elevator redhead?"

His eyes softened now, and he gave her a sympathetic smile. "No. She's definitely no Charlie. I'd say she's the polar opposite of Charlie. Not a perky hair on her not-red head."

Pamela sighed.

"Pam, it's been months. At least six of them. You can't keep seeing every woman as a potential heartbreak."

"I'm going back to men."

He laughed and took a sip of his water. "Yeah. Because that always worked out well for you. How's Jesse?"

"Better than I am. He just got married to some chick with a trust fund."

"Pam, you can't keep dating our close friends. It's exhausting being in the radius of drama when it goes sour."

She frowned at him. "I'll try to keep in mind how my breakups affect you."

"Please do." He stood and straightened his tie. "I gotta get back. Took a full lunch today. Gonna have to stay late as it is."

Pamela teased Dean about making a higher salary, but she knew how many hours he really put in to keep the organization going. Taking a full lunch for him meant an entire twenty minutes, during which he often responded to emails and returned calls. Dean could afford a flat in the city, but Pamela knew he was almost never in it. She didn't know why he didn't just sleep in his office.

"You should drive with Bela. She's your kind of person. She'll probably completely ignore you the entire ride, and if you're more than two minutes late, she'll leave your ass."

Pamela broke into a smile. "Really?"

"Yup. Bigger bitch than you. And she'll be good scenery too."

"Hot?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You know my buddy Sam Wesson?"

"The only straight techie at Binary? Comes off as gayer than all of them? Yeah. Everybody's met Sam."

"Right. He and I went to a conference at Sanford once. Bela was one of the speakers. Poor guy didn't hear a word she said, and I caught him in a happy dream about her on our drive back."

"No way. I'd pay money to see Grumpy in a happy dream."

Dean scowled at her. "Calm down. He's a mess."

"Beautiful mess."

"Whatever. Call Bela. She's beautiful too."


	2. Green Light

Bela flipped her hair over her shoulder and raised a manicured eyebrow. She noticed the woman at her office door. She waved her in, then returned her attention to her phone conversation. "Look, Lilith. They were lovely people. And I targeted them. And I got us the endowment. Now I can't be bothered to give a damn. Just like I don't care what happens to you." She put the receiver into its cradle gently, and began typing on her keyboard. 

There was a movement on the chair across from her desk, reminding her she had company. 

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude."

The woman snorted. "I'm finding that hard to believe."

Bela smiled easily. "I'm many horrible things, dear. Rude isn't one of them." She took a moment to look the woman over now. She was dark, in a lovely way, and to call her gorgeous would be insulting to the reality of it. Bela would never allow it to show, but she was immediately attracted to this smirking beauty. There was fire in her eyes and intelligence too. There was very little Bela found to be as sexy as a clever woman. "And who did you say you are?"

The smirk gained strength until it was nearly a sneer. "I'm Pam Barnes."

Bela's smile froze. "You're Pam Barnes?"

"You're Bela Talbot." Pamela nodded at the phone. "What was that?"

She blinked. "What? Oh. Lilith. She's a bitch. I stole her donors. She was getting nowhere with them, and now that I've received their endowment, she wants to take credit for them. Says she won't be able to maintain her goals without them on her books. She's more concerned about her short-term conversion numbers than the fact that we're trying to create a sustainable seed fund for incentives to train minorities in small businesses."

Pamela's smirk softened. "And that's your main focus?"

"Of course it is. Lilith is here because she can't seal deals in the business world. I'm here because I actually care about what Binary is about. I took a significant drop in salary to come here, because I believe in what we do. That is, I believe in funding what the rest of you do. We each have our roles. I specialize in procuring difficult to acquire support from select donors."

"You're a thief."

"A great thief."

Pamela laughed then. "Okay. Well, I'm the one who divines how best to use that money."

"Are you any good?" 

"I'm practically psychic, if you ask Dean Smith."

Bela watched her carefully. "Dean Smith? Director of everything with a dollar sign Dean Smith?"

Pamela snickered. "Yeah. That one."

"Hm." Bela was impressed. She had gone to graduate school alongside Dean Smith years ago. It was hard to believe the man had given up the business world for the salary-limiting world of non-profit. She had been surprised to find out he was the top financial manager at Binary. And this woman seemed to think he was a fan of hers. That was revealing in a positive way, assuming she was right. Sharks like Dean Smith didn't have time for riff raff. 

"So? You commute from Blackburn?"

Bela nodded absently. 

"Then let's skip the rest and get straight to the part where we figure out a schedule."

She smiled then. "Yes," she murmured as she looked into those dark eyes. "Let's do that."


	3. One Week In

The first few days of carpooling went surprisingly according to plan. Pamela was impressed. They had decided that Bela would drive Mondays and Tuesdays, they would drive separately Wednesdays, and Pamela would drive Thursdays and Fridays. Bela played instrumental classical music which Pamela drowned out with her earbuds and a bit of Pantera. She passed out on the way to work, while Bela listened to the news or her music, or took calls on her built-in Bluetooth. There was no uncomfortable obligatory socialization, and with her dark sunglasses, Pamela could enjoy the woman's strong but delicate features until she fell asleep. On the way home, Bela turned on a soft classic rock station that Pamela could get on board with, and she was free to tap out calculations and reports on her laptop without interruption. When it was Pamela's turn to drive, Bela spent the entire drive to and from work making extra donor calls. Pamela had expected that to grate on her nerves, but instead, she found it fascinating to hear how the process worked from a fundraising point of view, and she decided Bela could be reading terms and conditions for all she cared, as long as she did it in that gorgeous accent and silken voice. It certainly made the commute easier.

On Friday, Pamela received a call from Dean Smith, and she put it on speaker with a smile at Bela. "Hey, Bossman. Some of us like to go home on Friday evenings."

Dean was scowling; she could hear it. "I think I'll be sleeping here this weekend. Hey, you anywhere near Bela Talbot?"

Bela smirked. "Hello, Mr. Smith. How can I help you?"

"Bela! Hey, kiddo. Wanted to talk to you about your numbers."

Pamela glanced at her passenger quickly before returning her attention to the traffic.

Bela gave no more away with her voice than she did her eyes. "Yes, Mr. Smith."

"You need to get to a computer?"

"I've got every number you could possibly want down to the pence in my head. Spreadsheets are for amateurs."

Now Pamela could hear the smile. "Bela, I'm looking at your logs right now. Am I reading this right? You secured a twenty-year trust from Gabriel Arch of Archangel Productions?"

The woman relaxed visibly. "Yes, Dean," she purred. "Turns out, he's got eyes for a certain British executive I used to know, by the name of Sebastian Balthazar."

"Gabriel Arch is gay?"

"Gabriel Arch is the very definition of pansexual, darling. And I happen to know his type. He's very supportive of the work we do, connecting minorities for...networking purposes."

There was a pause, and then Dean's laughter could be heard filling the car. Pamela smiled.

Bela simply sniffed. "Did I answer your question?"

"You sold Sebastian Balthazar, Britain's most flaming bachelor exec to Gabriel Arch for a twenty-year trust?"

She shrugged. "I simply arranged an introduction. Gabriel tends to get what he wants, Dean, and he needs no help with that. He was happy to help us. The trust will be completely set up by Tuesday, to be dispersed to our educational and outreach fund over the next twenty years, in even payments. Archangel will receive quite the write-off this year."

Dean's voice was lower now. "That's a twenty million dollar trust, Bela."

"I told you, Dean. I have every number in my head already. And if you'd like to give credit where it's due, you might extend some to my driver. Because I was able to get far more work done on the commute yesterday and this morning, I was able to dedicate most of my afternoon today to Gabriel Arch's every wit and whim."

"Pamela, whatever you're doing for that woman, keep it up. And I looked at your projections too, and Bela should know the money she's working for will be in good hands with Pamela Barnes investing it. I don't know what we did before you came up the ranks, Pam."

She smirked at Bela. "You were nearly bankrupt as I remember it. You were keeping them afloat all by yourself."

There was a deep sigh, and when Dean spoke again, it was perhaps the softest voice she had ever heard him use. "This place is my baby, Pam. I didn't found it, but I may as well have. We've done a hell of a lot of good in the years we've been operating. But you're right. I thought for a little while...I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost her. I dropped every penny I ever made into keeping her alive, and the way I did it was by hiring folks like you. And one of them thought to hire Bela. And we're better than in the black now. We're expanding to help more and more people, more regions and more organizations every day. We can finally pay our people what they deserve, and I feel like I can breathe again. I probably won't ever make it home before eleven on a Friday night, but I don't care. Because of people like you...we're helping people like us. I don't...I don't think you could ever know what it means to me to have a fundraiser and an investment coordinator who are so focused on the long term success of this organization. You ladies are looking at twenty years from now. I used to wonder if I could keep our lights on for another twenty weeks. It wasn't that long ago."

Pamela shared a smile with the lovely woman beside her. "We're just the money side, Dean," she responded. "The foot soldiers do the real work, guys like Wesson and the others who provide the resources and training support to the organizations that need it, and the guys that do the free seminars on activism and getting support from local business groups and government, recruiting bright kids out of business schools who wouldn't have a chance in spite of their talent...We're just the ones who-"

"Who pay for everything we do," Dean said firmly. "I'm a money man too, Pam. Don't try to tell me we could do any of this without folks like you and Bela working your asses off."

Bela's catlike grin turned on Pamela then. "I don't know, Dean," she purred. "Pamela's ass seems just fine to me."

A heat filled her cheeks as Dean burst into laughter. "You could bounce a nickel off of that thing," he promised. "And if you do, I get details. Count the tattoos. It's a matter of contention at the office."

Bela looked into Pamela's eyes as she responded. "Promise."

Pamela cleared her throat. "Good night, Bossman. I'm going to try to keep my eyes on the road and hands on the wheel in spite of my cargo."

Dean laughed again. "Thanks again, ladies. You two enjoy your weekend."

Pamela stared determinedly at the road after hanging up the phone. "I'm trying to be pissed with you about violating the terms of our non-social social agreement."

Bela laughed. "Then after all this traffic is done, we should really have angry sex."

Pamela smirked. "Fine. But no strings. Right? Next week, we drive like usual. I don't care how hot your voice is. I'm not looking for a relationship."

Bela settled back in her seat triumphantly. "Oh, I'm not either. Any day now, my girlfriend is going to call and beg me back. I won't go, but I want to be free to answer the call and tell her how much I'm loving my own company."

"Right. Good."

"It doesn't matter how good you smell and taste," Bela continued. "I suspect you're amazing. But that's hardly here nor there."

"Ex-exactly." Pamela was not used to being off-balance. She was the one who enjoyed putting others out of their comfort zones. In fact, that was kind of her signature move. One step ahead, never let them stand on steady ground for any amount of time. Charlie had been the exception, and that had torn her heart out. She knew the woman hadn't meant to hurt her. But it was Pamela's fault for falling too hard in the first place. She had never meant to Charlie what Charlie had meant to her. The little redheaded wonder had tried. But she could not force herself to love Pamela any more than Pamela could force herself out of love with Charlie. And Pamela had seen her with Dorothy not long ago. They were amazing together. Part of her was glad for Charlie. Most of her was sorry for herself. She had promised herself she wouldn't let it happen again.

But here was Bela Talbot, sitting next to her, talking in that gorgeous, sinful voice of hers about how good she suspected Pamela smelled and tasted, and something was beginning to boil up that Pamela knew she wouldn't be able to push back down.

"After all, we aren't even friends," Bela added slyly.

"No," she agreed with a bit of relief. "No reason we can't just enjoy some time and move on."

"Then back on the road Monday with no obligations. It's the best of all scenarios."

Pamela finally pulled onto the road that led to Bela's loft. She tossed a shaky grin at the woman. "Sounds delicious," she breathed.

Bela's eyes flashed with intemperate lust, and Pamela swallowed hard and returned her attention to her driving.


	4. Hold On

Bela pointed a manicured finger at her lover. "Exactly. That's it, exactly."

The gorgeous woman lying next to her laughed. It stole Bela's breath every time. "You're drunk," she giggled.

She frowned down at her. "I'm lightly schnockered."

"I didn't realize there was a light version of that."

"You're plenty spiffed yourself, dear."

Pamela laughed again, and pressed up against Bela to kiss her. "Your lips are lovely."

Bela sipped at her wine as soon as her mouth was free. "My lips are thin. My worst feature."

The other woman stared at her. "Your worst...That indicates that you have any bad features at all." She sat up and took the wine glass from Bela's hand, and swallowed its contents in a gulp. Then she placed it on the side table and moved to push Bela back onto the bed. "You are the most beautiful, most exciting, and the sexiest woman I have ever known." She lowered her mouth to Bela's throat, causing her eyes to slip closed and a sigh to seep from her parted lips.

"Pamela, don't. I told you. I'm not-"

"Not comfortable with compliments like that. I heard you. And I'm going to ignore you. You said this wasn't a relationship. So I don't have to be a sensitive, caring girlfriend who gives you what you want. I'm going to do what I want, and that includes telling you how soft your skin is."

Bela watched helplessly as the dark hair fell over her breasts, as Pamela continued to nip and lick and kiss her way along Bela's collarbone.

"And how gorgeous your bone structure is. Like it was made for a goddess."

Bela let her eyes close again, and this time, she did not bother opening them.

"And how strong and lean these muscles are," she added as her hands rubbed up the woman's limbs, lifting them to reach above her head.

It thrilled her far more than she liked to admit when this woman held her wrists for just a moment longer than necessary.

"And how soft and perfect these breasts are, how intoxicating they are."

She gasped a little as Pamela began to take the tender skin between her teeth.

"I'm not your girlfriend, so I'm not worried about how uncomfortable it makes you when I tell you how you taste like sea salt and dark chocolate, like the most exotic liquor, like a sting of spice mixed into honey. I don't care how much you don't want to hear how my tongue just can't leave your skin alone."

Bela licked her own lips as Pamela worshipped her bare breasts, flicking a masterful tongue over each nipple, and then running her teeth along the outside curve of her left mound with a wicked promise of a bite that didn't come. "Pam," she breathed.

Pamela kissed down her belly, kissed her hips, and kissed her thighs until they opened up to her in anticipation. They had already had sex; but that had been hot and passionate and hurried, hands and tongues rushing to get what they wanted while each woman chased what she needed. But now, as Pamela coaxed her open, with a slow, gentle firmness, Bela could feel her defensive walls sighing away, melting down into the bed below.

"Let me," the woman was whispering. "Just let me..."

She had orgasmed with Pamela. Jo used to tell her she was too easy, used to pout that she was no challenge. But that was usually because Bela had trained herself to give in completely to a fantasy. She was so focused on her own build and release that she basically imagined her way to an orgasm every time. It was never very intense, but it gave her what she needed.

On the other hand, Pamela had also orgasmed, and she had nearly burst into tears at the surprise and relief of it. As she had explained it, "I love sex. I've always loved sex. But I don't usually...In fact, I almost never..."

Bela was the opposite, and she nearly laughed. "I often think sex is too much trouble, and the climax not worth it. But with you, this time?" She grinned in awe. "This was so worth it, I'm going to break out my good wine."

And now they were both tipsy and happy, and Bela was beginning to think she could get used to the sort of compliments Pamela was distributing all over her body.

So when Pamela whispered, so close to her flesh that she could feel her hot breath, "Just let me," Bela's skin shivered in surrender, and she gave a tiny moan of pleasure as her consent to whatever Pamela had in mind.

There was little fantasy necessary this time. She simply listened to Pamela's sounds, and remembered the amazing way her own body had reacted to Pamela's hand holding her delicate wrists above her head, and soon, she was whining. Heat and pleasure waves began at Pamela's mouth and shuddered through her own strong thighs and tightened her belly. She held on, could hear Pamela's laugh, even as she continued her sorcery. It seemed, with every other lover, that Bela simply let an orgasm wash over her, and she was pleased to have that part over. It felt nice, certainly, but there was so much anticipation on the part of her lover, that it seemed to ruin the moment of release, as she was just glad to have gotten to that point.

But Pamela.

With Pamela, with the way the woman seemed to truly enjoy what she was doing, Bela didn't feel rushed to finish for the sake of her lover. She didn't feel that finishing was the goal. The goal for this gorgeous woman was the pleasure and the fun of it all. For Pamela, who rarely got off with her lovers, the pleasure was in the touch, the taste and the sensation, not in the calculated end result. So when the shudders built beyond the point where Bela usually gave in, she tried for once to hold on.

That made all the difference.

Suddenly, she was gasping little breaths in through her nose, and heat poured through her, so that she even felt it in her mouth, and her lips parted and instead of a sigh of satisfaction, she heard a shrill whine escape. Inside her head, she was frantically telling herself to hold on _hold on god not yet hold on_ and her body was giddily shrieking _yes now now so good!_

Through it all, there was a delicious, delighted cackle, and it promised that if she rode this wave, if she held on just another moment, there would be an intensity no one else had ever shown her.

No one had ever been worth the wait. No one had ever been worth Bela's time.

Not even Bela.

Pamela lifted her head to stare in pleased conceit, licking her lips shamelessly. "So glad I'm not your girlfriend," she added, as if she had never stopped talking. "Because now I'd have to be strategic in the way I told you that you are the most amazing woman I've ever taken my tongue to. I couldn't just come out and tell you I want to rip that sound out of you every night for the rest of my life. If I were you girlfriend, I'd have to watch what I said, say things at the right time. I'd have to worry about scaring you off by telling you that feeling of your thigh muscles under my thumbs is the sexiest feeling in the world, that I want to make you sweat and scream into silk until you pass out, and then I want to hold you and run my hands through your hair until you wake up."

Tears were falling, and they shocked Bela. She blinked helplessly up at Pamela. "Why are you doing this?"

"What? Having the time of my life? Because I'm hedonistic and self-indulgent, and you've got the most beautiful and grateful body I've ever found."

"Grateful?" she whispered.

"I don't know what your other lovers were thinking, letting you get away." Pamela lay beside her, and pulled the weeping woman into her arms. "You're a masterpiece when you climax, Bela Talbot. And fuck everything I said about no strings. I want every string. I want to know everything about you."

"You really don't," Bela breathed.

Then Pamela's hand was on her wet cheek, and those incredible dark eyes were staring into her. She realized then that Pamela was completely sober. "Bela, I really do. I'm completely intrigued by you. You're this confident femme fatale one minute, and the next, you're a frightened child. I want to know both. I've never been so fascinated with anyone before. And I've sworn off getting my heart broken, but not off losing my heart, and I want you to let me take care of you. Don't tell me you don't need that."

Bela gasped in a sob. "I don't need that," she said hoarsely.

Pamela nodded. "Okay. You have an ex-girlfriend called Jo who you desperately miss but pretend you don't care about."

Bela's eyes closed.

"You have an amazing, record-breaking day at work, and yet you have no one to share the news with."

She flinched.

"Your supervisor's boss, who you clearly admire and who clearly has a lot of respect for you, calls to compliment your work, to thank you for what you're doing for the organization, and you somehow deflected the compliment to me."

She was silent.

Pamela's fingers combed through her hair gently. "And you accepted an ad for a carpool that promised no friendship required. When I touch you, you act as though you don't deserve the time I want to spend on you. You take care of it, but you don't seem to value your own beauty and sexuality."

"Please."

This woman could see things no one else had ever seen. Maybe Dean Smith was right. Maybe she was a psychic. "Bela, you're the sort of puzzle I want to take my time figuring out."

"What if you don't like what you see?"

Soft lips caressed hers. "We all have dark spots, SilkThief."

All at once, a laugh bubbled up in her throat, pushing past her fear. "SilkThief," she chuckled, swiping at her tears with shaking fingers. "Because I steal the sheets when I sleep with someone."

Pamela grinned at her, and slid into the expensive bedclothes beside her, wrapping her arms tightly around her thief. "I'll take my chances," she murmured, and she let her own naked body absorb and soothe the trembling of the naked lover beside her.


End file.
